Shadows
by Infallible.Mirage
Summary: Because it's the moments never mentioned, that really make a person. Drabbles; Tortall-verse.
1. By Name of Cooper

**Series of drabbles based on Alanna's generation, I'm getting nowhere with the Eyes of an Empress story...so this is a way of procrastinating on that, yet still not feeling guilty over not writing. In other words, these drabbles are products of my writer's block. Now there's a sentence that can be debated over...anyways, read and review _please - (_see? I said please..._)  
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_By Name of Cooper_ ---

Contrary to his mother's belief, George _did_ take her story to heart.

He is proud of his ancestress, and thinks about the well worn figure every night before he falls asleep with two daggers within hand's reach. Strange that he should feel as he does, that the fire-spirited girl who became the Lady Provost was so similar to _him_, a common thief. He can't help wondering who had been the Rogue in her time, but he's sure they would've been the bitterest of enemies. But really, what difference is there? She spent her life fighting for justice, and to be sure, George's life will be for avoiding it. But from the diary he's read hungrily, countless times over, she did everything she did for the sake of the Lower City, and there's not sentence in the world that can better describes what he feels. Because regardless of whether his mother used to be a priestess of the Goddess, he was raised in the Lower City, and this is _his_ world.

He may be but seventeen, but he's not as idealistic to believe of a world without crime. There'll always be thievery, murder, rape, and…pleasure girls, just as sure as the rich are born into luxury. And he knows that the Court of the Rogue is just a way of regulating all this, of binding alliances, so that the city's poor don't run wild.

He wants to rise in this world, crooked though it be… he wants the name of _Cooper_ to be known by all again. _She_ did it by going up through the kennel ranks, he's going to do it a _very_ different way. But in the end, he just wants to protect the City and Court that he knows so well, and so he rather thinks that his ancestress would approve (his mother surely won't).

George places the figure of Rebekah Cooper back inside the box, pulls out quill and paper and begins to write a short missive…

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_Majesty, _

_A challenge for your throne, the Dancing Dove, noon tomorrow. _

_George Cooper_

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He places the box back in the hidey-nook before calling for a messenger bird. The Rogue will get the message tonight, and tomorrow…they will see.


	2. Price of Peace

**Thanks to the solitary reviewer (that's sad, by the way)...**

**_queenshinkokami: Delia? Hmm...-muses- _**

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_The Price of Peace_

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Jonathan was holding the latest letter from Kally when Vania cautiously slipped into his study. He listened as she quickly told him she loved him _so_ much, blathered on and on about women's rights and their strong warrior spirit --- words so obviously put into her mouth by her Aunt Alanna, and then asked him for permission to try for her knighthood.

He watched her eyes light up as he uttered the one word, and one word only. She kissed him on the cheek and rushed out to inform her mother. Then he sank into his armchair and sighed.

He knows Thayet will approve. Maybe she'll even forgive him a little, for saying that _other_ little word when another little girl had asked him that same question in this same study years ago.

Truthfully, he never really considered arranging marriages of state for his other two daughters.

Maren, Tusaine, Galla, Tyra, and the Yamani Islands are…if not allies, at least not enemies. He'd thought about maybe solidifying some of those alliances with royal marriages, but the flash in Thayet's eyes as he mentioned it one evening made him back down fast. He remembered very well that one horrendously awkward, tense year, and was not eager to repeat it for anything less than the fate of his kingdom.

As for the potential threats… Scanra had been beaten down for at least another generation. Carthak was…placified, and there was nothing to be done about the rebel nobles and their pirates. And Jon knows he doesn't have to worry about the Copper Isles anymore, not with Aly as the spymaster there. She may claim to hold no political preference towards Tortall, but Jon's well aware there's no chance she'd allow a war against her native country. The Bazhir would never rise against the Voice, so he doesn't even need to worry about the Great Southern Desert.

After decades of holding down a realm his father left to ruin, it's finally at peace, and so his younger children are free to live their own lives, free to pursue their dreams.

So why isn't he delirious with happiness? Why isn't he dancing like a fool in the palace halls, ignoring his aching joints in joy and delight?

A lock of white-streaked hair falls across his forehead, and he moves to brush it back in impatience. The feel of paper against his skin makes him sit up in shock and he realizes he's still clutching Kalasin's letter in his hand.

And then he knows.

He just wishes the price for all this hadn't been his little girl.

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**-raises eyebrows- Well? Review svp. CC appreciated, as well as spelling mistakes if I didn't catch them. And please someone tell me if I ought to stop writing angst and learn how to writing humor & romance **


	3. Complete

**Thanks to all reviewers - 10 is a MUCH better number but much too long to reply to individually. I'd love to do a drabble on Kally...but not in this series**

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_One Complete Unit_

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"Twins." Alanna looks at the bundles in her arms and sighs, averting her eyes from their perfect symmetry with a grimace.

Alanna was _happy_ when she had Thom, a bit amazed that she could have produced this life, but happy nonetheless. But now, when she holds the twins in her arm for the first time, she cringes inside as she sees their faces, faces too young to be anything but identical.

Cringes inside, _inside_ only, because George is sitting beside her on the bed, and though she tells him everything, this he will not want to know.

He won't want to know that she doesn't love these kids. Won't want to know that she can't even _look_ at them for too long, because they bring back too many memories, too many thoughts she's kept hidden away in the back of her mind for so long. Won't want to know that the only thing keeping her from breaking down is the fact that these twins have tiny wisps of blond-red hair – not fire-red, _blond-red_.

He won't want to, and he never _will_ know, that from now on she'll take every command, every plea for help that comes her way. She would have done so anyway, for the sake of duty, but now she'll go because she _wants_ to leave. So she doesn't have to watch these two faces smooth out and mature, so she doesn't have to see them running around the lands, being two of one complete unit, when_she_ will never be complete again.

So she doesn't have to face the possibility of maybe seeing a little girl dunk a little boy into a frozen pond for an unknown offense far into the future, and then having to remember _another_ little girl, and _another_ little boy, and an offense committed far in the past.

Alanna places a smiling mask on her face, and holds firm to it. Amazing how much you can remember of old etiquette lessons when you really, _really_ want it.

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**Reviews & CC appreciated, wanted, needed. Suggestions for future drabbles would be great - spelling mistakes if anyone can find any, because I don't exactly have a beta. **


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